Shards
by Velkyn
Summary: A World of Warcraft RPGfic. A rogue turns to a warlock for comfort and absolution. Sexual situations. [OCxOC]


-This is an RPG-related work of fiction based on World of Warcraft, an MMORPG created by Blizzard Entertainment. It is drama/angst with a small slice of lemon. Rated T for sexual situations. He is the property of P Benjamin, and is used with permission. This work is written purely for entertainment value. Please don't sue me.-

* * *

'What do you do?' he asked.

She ran her fingers through a handful of glowing pink shards. 'I steal souls,' she said, and smiled faintly.

He seemed sad, but it wasn't really her style to ask questions. 'And what happens to them after you use them?' he asked.

She shrugged one shoulder slightly. 'Some people think they just disappear. I like to think they go to the Twisting Nether.'

He leaned forward, his tone almost suggestive. 'And what would you do if you could have a soul like mine?'

She sat back in her chair, appraising him. She seemed to be undressing him with her eyes; not just his clothes, but his skin, muscle, and bones.

'I'm sure I could come up with a use for a soul like yours,' she said. 'Why? Are you offering?'

He stood and motioned for her to follow him to the cellar. When they'd reached their destination, he sat on the cold stone floor, his back against a stack of crates. She knelt before him, resting on her heels. As he spoke, she watched the shifts in his expression.

'They took her away from me and sacrificed her,' he said. He looked up at her. 'I need to find her again.'

'Sacrifice?' She snorted softly. 'No one ever comes back from that. She's in the Nether now. She won't be coming back.'

His eyes pleaded with her. 'If you took my soul, used it...' He left the suggestion unfinished.

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, studying him. Finally, she shook her head. 'I can't do that,' she said, and shrugged. 'Your soul is too strong to be taken. You've lived too long, seen too much.' She shifted against her feet. 'Besides, there are rules, you know. As much as I'd like to take your soul, use it for my own purposes, the Alliance would never permit it.' Again, she shifted - forward, towards him. 'I can't take your soul, but I can try to help you.'

'Help me?' he echoed. 'How?'

She pushed him back, against the stone floor. 'I can make you forget,' she whispered, brushing her lips against his. He moaned softly against her mouth as she straddled him. 'I can take the memory away. You said I looked like her; I even follow her path.' She looked down at him. 'Think of her.'

He closed his eyes, let her unlace his clothes. His mind was working, and well. She slipped from her robes and touched him. Her hands were warm.

'Remember her,' she whispered into his ear, as she brought her body towards his. He moaned again, louder this time, and she lowered herself onto him. As she moved, she murmured the words to a spell, one of her own design. She'd learned much in the time she'd been on this path.

She took both his wrists in one hand and held them gently above his head. He was lost in his memory, dreaming of his lover; it would be a very powerful shard indeed, if the cast worked. As she rode him, she adjusted her tone of voice, to match more closely to his lost love.

'Please,' she murmured, shrinking inwardly at the word. She'd never used it in her life, unless it was a necessary part of a spell. Bowing to another was not in her makeup. But his lover - ah, she would have said this. 'Please, my love; give yourself to me?'

She leaned in again, brushing her lips against his cheek in a kiss so gentle, it surprised her. Her whisper reached his ears: 'Call my name...'

He did, crying out for his lover. In that moment, at the point of his release, she touched his Centre.

The violet spark that joined her hand to his body was blindingly bright. For a moment, she held the spell, sure that it would work. His memory was strong, his climax was intense, and her intentions were wicked. The cast would work beautifully.

And it did. The shard she stole from him was delicately-formed, perfect in shape and substance. She exulted in her success, as he blinked up at her, his eyelids heavy.

'Sleep,' she commanded, and touched his forehead. His eyes closed, and he sank into exhaustion.

She would take the shard and keep it in a very safe place. Souls were one thing, but memories... memories were quite another.


End file.
